Becoming a God through Robitussin
DXM
by Master of the Minions
Citation:   Master of the Minions. "Becoming a God through Robitussin: An Experience with DXM (exp897)". Erowid.org. Nov 29, 2000. erowid.org/exp/897

 
DOSE:
120 ml oral DXM (liquid)

BODY WEIGHT: 135 lb


Specifics
Age: 19
Dosage: 120ml Robitussin Maximum Strength Cough (DXM)
Music: Phish, Tom Waits, Edith Piaf, Yves Montand
Time: A Friday night
Location: A Small College in Illinois, USA

I would recommend this drug to people who have already used shrooms or acid and are looking for something more intense. If you have any strange repressed memories, they are likely to come up as demons during this trip. If you are a depressed or sad person you will probably hate this drug. It basically amplifies your attitude. On a past DXM trip, which was much more solitary, I examined strong themes of death, decomposition, skeletons, demons, voodoo creatures, rank meat, etc. I was fascinated by these things, but I also find horror movies boring and never scary. Keep this in mind.

The most important thing I can say is to read the DXM FAQ to learn about this drug so you don't kill yourself. Don't buy and drink any medication without knowing exactly what all the active ingredients are. There should ideally only be one: dextromethorphan.

Last night was one of the wildest nights of my life. I had been experimenting with DXM for the last two weeks, and finally decided to get everything right and try tripping hard. I ate early, around 6:30, and then went to my dorm where my roommate and I had a few people over for drinks. I stayed away from the alcohol and drove to a drugstore and bought a nice 8oz. bottle of Robitussin Max Strength Cough. I sat down around 9:30 and drank about 6 ounces, chasing it with Ocean Spray. By about 10:30 I was starting to act goofy – singing along to music, hearing sounds very clearly, and walking as if I was forgetting that I had limbs. My roommate started singing to me in French which made me laugh wildly, and I was singing and directing along with him and the French music he put on to freak me out. Well, I was just acting jolly and happy, waving my hands like a conductor. When I got up to go to the bathroom, the hall seemed very foreign and the floor was curved upwards like I was walking on a pipe. I told some people I saw in the hall about this, and they knew I was on DXM and laughed. It took a lot of concentration to pee and I was having a fun time wondering why there were pink hockey pucks in the urinal. I started really tripping hard, but wanted to talk to people. I went down to the second floor of the dorm and began telling people I knew who were standing around about the drug and its wonders and how much I took. I was just chatting with them, but little things started to freak me out. Someone walked by with a microwave popcorn can that was designed like a bucket, so when you popped it you would have a nice bucket of popcorn. This completely baffled me and I looked at it with awe. I started getting really loud and vocal – and all the people around were laughing – when I looked on with awe towards this bucket. When it was handed to me, I rolled it around and played with it and just yelled about why anyone would need such a thing. I remember saying that there were starving children in other countries and we need to have our popcorn appear in a bucket after popping. The other problem was that it was only one third full (of un-popped corn). I wanted to know why they don’t fill the damn thing up when they sell it. Every time I started acting sober, they would produce the popcorn bucket and I would freak out. I now think that the reaction was triggered by the fact that I had never seen that before. Without a bit of memory of such a thing to allow me to just chill out, I was trying to write a new thing to memory and understand it. This became very difficult.

As things went on around us, or people would walk by, my group (about 10 people who had gathered) would wait and listen to what I would say. Somebody puked in the bathroom from slamming beers, and then he cleaned it up. There was this towel in the hall which may or may not have been used to clean up the vomit. Someone picked it up, and the crowd said that it was a puke towel and I freaked out because she touched it and she freaked out and I was just screaming. I was just saying, “We’ve got puke in the bathroom, puke on some towel, someone touching the towel, and I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON!” This is just an example of one of the things that freaked me out. But I was still happy about it, just yelled a lot and begged for clarification. “What is going ON!?”

Other things I went off on were mule kicks and fruit punch. Someone was drinking fruit punch and I looked at it and asked what he was drinking. When he said fruit punch, I started talking animatedly about what it would be like to have invented fruit punch. “You’ve got one fruit here and another fruit here. They both have juices. Let's put them together and get half of the nutritional content from each one! It might even taste better!” You have to realize that I, naturally, love telling stories to groups of people and getting them involved. So the volume, articulation and every part of my body language and speech was just completely animated and excited, luring people toward the truth behind fruit punch. Then I was telling about how I could close my eyes and make myself feel like I was falling or spinning in space, which I could do. They tried to get me to do a summersault or a cartwheel. I just laughed at that prospect, because I still had some dignity. I told them that because my brain was closing off from my body, there was little control over muscles, so if I tried to do a cartwheel I would just fall over. My friend Mike told me to just do that. “Just do a mule kick – that’s like half of a cartwheel. Just get on your hands and then fall over.” At the mention of a mule kick, I was deeply offended. I acted as if he had just told me to fuck a horse or something. I yelled at him about how, in the morning, when I was off the DXM, I would schedule a meeting with the head dean of the college and get Mike’s ass booted from this college for even mentioning something as absurd as a mule kick.

Then I began to create music. Sounds started to sound really cool, and there was this sound, kind of like a humming, that I would make. It sounded to me like a thousand Latin salsa trumpets playing all around my head. The sound was amazing, and it echoed. When I closed my eyes and hummed this amazing sound, I could visualize the sound waves in the shapes of their pure tones and could also see this trumpet thing which was imbedded in my mouth that allowed such great music. Then I started noticing the vast villages of tiny minions who were imbedded in the carpet and listening to my music. They were tiny, but many. The echo was not a real echo – no echo was ever real, I said. An echo was simply the millions of minions repeating what you said in an act of approval. When we later went outside, and there was an echo off the buildings, I came to realize that I had vast colonies of minions living in the grass and in the crevices of buildings.

I told friends about my three forms or channels of transmission: loud, normal, and music. If I was standing so that I couldn't see my feet, I forgot that I had a body or that I was a person. I felt that I was a floating entity which was really cool. I felt like my body was useless - the mind was the only thing required. The body hung limp while the brain did all the work, I thought. I don’t remember this, but was told that I reported trolls in the trees. I didn’t want to talk about them, however. I talked to a lot of people, and asked random people if they had minions who followed them. Then I started to get into the godlike state where I felt like a god. I had minions following me, people were following me listening to me preaching, and everything was new and alien.

Television does not make any sense at all when you are tripping. In my friend Chris’ room I watched The Family Guy, which I had never really seen before, and was just angered by the TV. It made no sense, just rambling. This guy had to crash an airplane and there was Norm McDonald’s voice and then there was the Grim Reaper and I was just confused. I sat around trying to watch TV and there were these infomercials that had this guy selling a get rich quick scheme dealing with tiny classified advertisements. It made less sense when I was tripping than it would if I wasn’t stoned, obviously. I wandered upstairs and everyone was asleep, but the halls were still foreign and weird. I saw my old roommate and he looked at my wild huge pupils and thought it was cool. I was tripping really hard. I then went into my room, and everything was totally foreign. My friend Ross and his girlfriend were in there talking and kind of taking turns passing out from beer when I sat down in my favorite chair and yelled, “Where in the hell am I? This place is totally alien. I don’t know where I am.” After spending a while learning what was in my room, I climbed into my lofted bed and said, “From here I will have total control over my minions!! I am so much higher than they are and they are sure to obey me.” I had some wild dreams, but then I fell asleep about 4am, listening to Tom Waits and dreaming of voodoo women, and got up at 11:30 feeling great, but still a little separate from my body. I feel a bit like I am on ecstasy because I am learning about this college as if it is a whole new place and I have been gone on a long trip and have just returned.

Exp Year: 2000ExpID: 897
Gender: Not Specified 
Age at time of experience: Not Given 
Published: Nov 29, 2000Views: 7,898
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DXM (22) : Various (28), General (1)

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